


A Witch in New Orleans

by LynnDenbaum



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But here it is, F/F, M/M, New Orleans, No Beta, Post canon, Some swear words, We fall like Crowley, no edit, nobody asked for this, not even me, probably some violence later, witches of the french quarter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 16:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynnDenbaum/pseuds/LynnDenbaum
Summary: Anathema can't stand it anymore.Not Tadfield, not Newt, not everything else, so she decides to move to the Crescent City of New Orleans to start from scratch and build up a new live for herself. Without prophecies.Just her and her own choices.What could possibly go wrong?Why I am doing this? Because we don't have enough Anathema Device stand-alones.She is underappreciated and I intend to fix this.Enjoy!





	A Witch in New Orleans

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am bored.  
No, I don't know if I will upload regularly.  
There are several other fics that I still need to put attention to (and failing gravely), but I'll do the best I can possibly do.  
Also, sadly, I still have to work to pay my rent :(

Anathema was not particularly good at being a modern witch.  
Not, that she was bad at it either, but she just didn’t quite fit into these modern covens and groups of self proclaimed occultists.   
All those people, talking about sending good energy to others, seeing ghosts in places where there weren’t even rats.   
She just couldn’t get the hang of it.   
  
Frankly, she outright avoided them, because everytime someone tried to tell her, that the tense muscles on her back were caused by the ghost of her dead grandfather, that came back to earth to try and haunt her for that delicious piece of chocolate cake with raspberry frosting she stole from him 20 years ago,   
the witch had to choke back a low curse and some very very not-nice, but probably still accurate words.   
What were those people thinking, spitting on the legacy of her ancestors like that?   
  
So when she moved to New Orleans of all places, to distract her from her breakup with Newt some months earlier,  
she really had to question her own motives.   
Was this some kind of penance for the heartbreak she had given her ex?   
Was she trying to make herself suffer?   
  
Well in the end it didn’t really matter.  
If she decided, she couldn’t stand it anymore, she would just move again. Leave this place behind, as she had left Jasmine Cottage, as she had left Newt to his own personal end of the world, to his own Armageddon, to go and explore all that they had saved without him, because she couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore.   
Not because of him personally.   
  
She just couldn’t stay in Tadfield and go about the same everyday routine, water the plants, make some tea, go shopping, talk to Newt, watch him try to use a computer and fail over and over again anymore. She had saved the world, dammit!   
There were angels and demons and she had met the antichrist!   
She couldn’t just stop there now.   
She couldn’t and she wouldn’t.   
  
But he wanted to stay.   
So he did.   
  
And she went away.   
  
Anathema shook her head to get her back into the reality of this second.   
The moving company had just carried the last of her belongings into the house, that was now hers and someone had handed her several pages to sign.   
_ “Crescent City Moving. We’d even move you to the moon” _ was written on top of the first page in flourishing letters.  
How creative.   
She signed the papers, handed them back to a tall man with grey hair in a blue overall and then waved, as the men took off and left her alone in her front yard.   
  
With a sigh the woman turned around to take a look at her property.   
A real look.   
Not the kind of glancing once-over she had given the thing, when she came around here the first time.   
  
The neighbourhood was noisy and busy and yet somehow surprisingly tranquil at the same time. People were going about their days, never even noticing the smell of subtle change, flowing through streets and over rooftops, swirling through the skies and over the ancient cemetery of the french quarter. (That were Anathemas thoughts at least. Reality can sometimes surprise with a twist and a change of its own, you just wait.)   
They didn’t know, what they were missing.   
Well most of them didn’t.   
This _ was _ the city of witches, after all.   
  
At least the house was beautiful.   
Coming from a rich family of professional descendants and being able to buy everything she could want, definitely had its perks.   
  
The doors and window frames were carved out of solid dark wood that looked like it had lasted for at least several centuries already and, when one ought to look closer, they could identify exquisit little carvings, patterns and sculptures in the surfaces.   
Ivy and roses and sometimes mystic looking symbols and runes.   
Vines full of dark, plum coloured grapes draped the entry like a very delicate curtain, they climbed up the old sandstone walls, circled windows and finally reached the roof, to gracefully form a crown of green and brown and purple in all their most defined shades.   
  
It was unusual architecture for the french quarter, but somehow it did fit in with all the colourful facades and little balconies.   
_ Gives of the same feeling _ , she thought. _ Ancient and significant. _   
  
The ground floor had once been a shop, as far as she could tell from the huge quartered windows and the pure mass of shelves that covered the walls, as well as of course the little sales table in the back of the room.   
She could nearly see an old cashbox standing there, chiming joyfully whenever in use.   
Nearly.   
  
The floor was the same dark wood as the door and the window frames and it even partly covered the walls, where they were still visible underneath the also wooden, but slightly lighter coloured shelving.   
Anathema sighed again and slowly made her way over to the staircase that led to the first floor and the apartment in it.   
That was where she had planned to actually live.   
She didn’t know if she wanted to open a shop on the ground level, but even if not, it didn’t feel right to use the place as her bedroom.  
It wasn’t meant for it.   
And even if Anathema wasn’t a person that particularly loved rules, she still appreciated a little tradition.   
  
The wooden planks were old, ancient as everything in this house, and gnarled underneath her feet and with every little shift of weight that she had to do in order to walk.   
It felt good already. Like home.   
  
  
  
When Anathema left her house a week later to go shopping for some groceries she immediately caught the sight of a peculiar girl on the other side of the street.   
Flowing red curls framed a porcelain face covered in way too many freckles. Intense green lights seemed to glow out of it, when she smiled shortly, acknowledgingly, before she turned away and disappeared into the crowd.   
It was nearly as if the girl had waited for her to come out of the building to catch her with her glowing look from her glowing eyes.   
_ What the hell? _   
  
But no. That was complete, utter nonsense.   
She must be imagining things.   
  
With a shake of her head about herself she continued her way down the road to a little grocery store she had seen some days earlier.   
It was a no-brand market with small, crowded shelves and an elderly man sat behind a counter that was made of old teak wood, or something the like.   
And it had by far not as many things in stock, as the tesco markets she had come to know in Tadfield and London, or the huge walmarts she had been to in other parts of the united states, but it had character.   
  
Something the big store-chains couldn’t claim.   
  
Her bag was filled to the edge with useful and less useful things, when she put it onto the counter and took out her wallet to pay.   
  
“Ah you must be Miss Device.”   
Anathema stared at the man with a face void of all emotion.   
  
Well at least she tried.  
The truth was, her surprise was written all over her lineaments and in the way she clutched her purse against her chest.   
She even took a small step back.   
  
“Excuse me?”   
"Oh I didn’t mean to scare you, young lady. In the french quarter news spread fast. Someone saw the moving vans bring your stuff so they started talking and eventually someone stumbled across your name. No magic involved here.”   
“Why would there be magic…”   
  
She stopped herself.   
Anathema had survived the apocalypse. She had seen things, no one would ever believe or dare imagine.   
The thought of magic being involved anywhere wasn’t that far off, when she thought about it.   
And New Orleans did have the reputation of being a witches town.   
  
“Nevermind.”   
The man smiled, knowingly, before handing her back her purchases.   
“Have a nice day Miss Device.”   
“Sure… thanks.”   
  
On her way back to her house she noticed all the glances and smiles thrown her way, that she had completely ignored before.   
Sure the people still went about their days, but they didn’t seem as oblivious as she had thought.  
Some women in their forties in wide skirts and long blouses even went as far as to wave.   
  
The man had been right. Apparently news did spread rather quickly here.   
  
The people of New Orleans had developed a certain skill unique to this area of the world, out of pure necessity.  
Any newcomer, no matter the circumstances of their arrival, was noticed immediately and looked over by the rest of the french quarter community.   
Were they a threat? Were they friendly? Human?   
They didn’t even notice this.   
Most of the inhabitants didn’t even know anything, but they still felt the need to check intruders out, subtly, unconsciously.   
New Orleans was in a more desperate need to check out its inhabitants, than any other town in the world.   
Noplace else tended to attract peculiar and dangerous individuals as the “city that care forgot”.   
Not only because of the magic and the witchy history, but also because it was a fast city, a quick city.  
Live raced down the gutter here occasionally.

The newest newcomer to the area didn’t know this.  
She was just straight out confused.

  
Anathema tried smiling back, but all the attention quite put her off.   
There were thousands of tourists in this town.   
How could all this people tell, that she wasn’t?   
  
When she finally reached her property again, she was awaited.   
On top of the deformed sandstone steps to her door, sat a small elegant ginger cat and stared at her with glowing green eyes.   
She purred softly, rubbed her head against the witches legs and then followed her inside, without giving her any chance to block the way.   
“Oh alright. You probably want some milk, then?”   
  
It wasn’t as if her day could get any funnier.   
  
Had Anathema taken the time to check the cat's aura, she would probably have realized, that it was way to strong for an animal this size.   
She would have realized, that it was pulsing with the same magical power that she had felt, when looking at her mother or the demon Crowley.   
Maybe she would have realized, that she had let something else entirely into her house.   
But she didn’t.   


**Author's Note:**

> I am not a native english speaker, and would really appreciate your help with improving my writing.  
Should you find any mistakes, please let me know.  
If you have advice, or just want to give me feedback, please feel free to do so!
> 
> Thank you very much!


End file.
